


I Made This Place For You

by ohmcgee



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is not a good man, M/M, Slow Build, pre-crowbar, slices of life with Bruce and Jason, the one where Bruce takes Jason to the ballet, they are ruining my liiiiiiife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We have not touched the stars,<br/>nor are we forgiven, which brings us back<br/>to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes,<br/>not from the absence of violence, but despite<br/>the abundance of it.” -  Siken</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Made This Place For You

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [让它在这里发生（I Made This Place For You）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290816) by [solarcorium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarcorium/pseuds/solarcorium)



After a run-in with Scarecrow, Bruce wakes up more often than not, to find Jason curled up on the other side of his bed. He talks to him about it, reassures Jason that he's safe in the manor and that he's right down the hall of he needs anything, but the next night he hears Jason thrashing around, crying out for his mother. There are tears on his face when Bruce scoops him up into his arms and carries him to his room. 

The next morning Alfred walks in, cup of coffee and bottle of vicodin at the ready and lifts an eyebrow at Bruce when he notices his company. 

"He has nightmares," Bruce explains, swallowing the pills dry, and Alfred leaves the room, comes back with a glass of juice for Jason and reminds him to brush his teeth before school.

 

***

For Christmas Bruce takes Jason ice skating because he's never been and it was one of Bruce's favorite things to do with his parents at Christmas time. He doesn't go out on the rink with him, just watches from the outside, holding a cup of cocoa for Jason when he gets too cold. He actually picks it up pretty quick, though Bruce figures that shouldn't surprise him, only falling to bruise his pride a couple of times before he's showing off and showing the rest of the skaters up with the balance and agility you only get from being Robin. The tail of the scarf Bruce wrapped around his neck earlier flaps around in the wind and Jason grins wildly at him when he skates up and takes the cocoa out of his hand and Bruce thinks _can I keep you._

“It’s time to go,” he says instead. 

 

***

Jason gets hurt more than Dick did. Nothing major, just careless scrapes and bruises, always requiring first aid when they get back to the cave. He never protests when Bruce insists on cleaning the wounds, not like Dick did, snapping that he’s not a _baby_ , he can take care of _himself_ , just sits on the table and hisses when the iodine hits his skin. He even listens when Bruce lectures him about being more careful, though he's always back the next night, blood on his knee, the back of his head, nasty scrape on the side of his face. 

"You've got to be more careful, Jason," Bruce says, curling one hand above Jason's knee to hold him still while he disinfects the cut. 

"I will," Jason says, barely a whisper. Bruce notices the change in his breathing but he doesn't say anything. "Next time. Promise." 

 

***

 

They fight about everything. Bruce only thought Dick had been argumentative and he supposes he was, still is, a strong mind and personality that Bruce has always admired. Jason’s different though. Where he and Dick would usually only argue about the job, about his safety, about _Bruce’s_ safety, he and Jason argue about _everything._ Trivial things like leaving his wet towel on the floor, about not cleaning his tools properly, about the C he got on his Social Studies project. They argue about the job too, about Jason not _listening_ to him and the fire that burns bright behind his eyes that scares Bruce sometimes, the thing that makes him go too far, too often. 

But mostly they argue about Jason being a cover hog. 

“You’re like a portable space heater,” Bruce complains, yanking the sheet back to his side. “You don’t even _need_ any covers.” 

“I can’t sleep without _covers_ , Bruce,” Jason says, the little smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth that usually signals the beginning of a headache for Bruce. “ _Monsters_ will get me.”

“The only monster here is you,” Bruce says gruffly, then turns and tickles Jason until he relinquishes the sheets.

It lasts about half an hour.

 

***

 

They have dinner with Dick on Sundays. It’s nice even if it’s slightly strained and awkward when he first arrives, but Jason’s good at acting as the buffer between the two of them, diffusing the situation into something light and making them forget about the past. Jason and Dick play chess in the study and Bruce pretends to work, but mostly he just listens to them talk, catches up on Dick’s life through Jason. He’s not stupid enough to realize that’s exactly why Jason does it. He’s a sneaky little brat, but he’s not sneaky enough to fool Bruce.

But having Dick around only emphasizes just how different he and Jason are and it makes Bruce realize the stark differences between his relationship with Dick and his relationship with Jason. It’s not something he thinks about too often, but when Dick’s around it’s hard not to. Especially when Dick gives him those strange looks when Jason brings him his coffee, when he crowds into Bruce’s space the way Bruce doesn’t allow _anyone_ to do. 

Dick pats him on the shoulder when he leaves and says, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. 

 

***

 

Jason gets sick more tha Dick ever did and when Bruce thinks about how it’s probably from being malnourished from living on the streets for so long as a child it just makes him angry, so he tries not to think about it too much. He brings him the soup Alfred made and the antibiotic from the pharmacy and sits next to him on the bed to make sure he eats. 

“I want to patrol,” Jason whines and Bruce thinks it’s maybe the first time he’s ever actually sounded like a child, weak and tired, angry because he can’t get what he wants.

“We will,” Bruce says, wrapping his arm around Jason’s shoulders and pulling him close. He shivers against him, his fever already starting to break. “Tomorrow night.”

“You’re not going out?” Jason turns his head and looks up at him hopefully. 

“Taking a night off once in a while isn’t a crime,” Bruce says and gives him a smile. “What are we watching?”

 

***

 

Sometimes he has his own nightmares. They’re not always about his parents, bleeding out while he watches, helpless to do anything and so, so alone. Sometimes they’re about Dick, sometimes Alfred, sometimes they’re about himself, broken and beaten down and finally giving up, admitting he’s only a man and he can’t do it anymore. That used to be the worst thing he could imagine, until he started dreaming about Jason.

Jason, cold in his arms. Jason, covered in blood. Jason, screaming, screaming for him and he’s too late. Every time he’s too late.

He wakes up in a silent scream, gasping for air. He can’t breathe, still feels like there’s a weight on his chest, holding him under. Then he realizes that’s because Jason’s _sitting_ on him, gripping Bruce’s shoulders tight, shaking him. All the color rushes back into Bruce’s world. Jason’s here, Jason’s okay, Jason’s not going anywhere. Bruce won’t let him.

He reaches out and pulls Jason down against him, palms the back of his head, buries his face in the crook of his shoulder and breathes him in. He smells like soap and deodorant and salt, smells real, smells _alive._

“I”m here,” Jason murmurs, brushing Bruce’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m right here.”

Bruce doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so he just holds him tighter.

 

***

 

“We should make Alfie breakfast,” Jason wakes up him. Bruce groans and blinks up at him. He doesn’t know whether the kid is a morning person or if he’s just got so much pent up energy that he never gets tired. He’s thinking it’s probably the latter. 

“Hh?”

“It’s his _birthday_ ,” Jason says, tugging on his arm. “Come on, we have to beat him down there or he’ll start cooking himself. Come onnnn.”

Jason barely lets him pull a pair of flannel pants on before he’s dragging him down the stairs, pulling out milk and eggs and flour and butter and basically everything in the refrigerator he can get his hands. Bruce just stares, bleary eyed, part of his hair still sticking up in the opposite direction, and scratches his chest. 

“What’re we making?”

Jason shrugs. “Eggs? Pancakes? That’s all I know how to make. You know how to cook?”

Bruce shakes his head and Jason laughs at him. “Figures. I”ll teach you, then.”

He ends up with flour in his hair and on his pants and two white handprints on his chest where Jason shoved him away to go tell Alfred breakfast was ready. 

Alfred says sternly, "You should not have done this, sirs," then takes a bite of his pancake. It's still gooey in the middle and he makes a face, spitting it into his napkin. "No really, you shouldn't have. Salmonella is my least favorite illness."

Jason kicks Bruce under the table. 

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his shin. "Jason put me in charge of them." 

"Ahh," Alfred says, smiling. "Then perhaps Master Jason would like to eat them."

Jason snorts." Try the eggs, Alfie. I made those. "

"Delicious," Alfred hums in approval. "Perhaps you should work in the kitchen and I can traipse around Gotham at night in tiny green underpants."

Bruce chokes on his eggs. 

***

He takes Jason to the ballet when he fails a music test on classical composers. It's meant to be half education, half punishment because he knows how much Jason hates sitting still, but as with most things with Jason, he does the exact opposite of what Bruce expects. 

He's completely still the entire time, hands in his lap, back straight and on the edge of his seat like he's afraid he's going to miss something. At the final crescendo Bruce looks at him and thinks his eyelashes look damp, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't say anything when Jason squeezes his hand, either, looks over at him and smiles. 

Bruce takes him for ice cream after and they walk down the street, licking cones in their Armani suits. 

"You liked it, then?"

Jason shrugs. "It was alright." He chases a drip of ice cream down his wrist with his tongue. "I could do that, you know?" 

Bruce nods. "You could do anything." 

***

Jason kisses him on a Wednesday night. There's blood on his mouth and in his teeth and Bruce still has the cowl on. He thinks about stopping him, about not pushing him against the wall and licking the blood off the corner of his mouth. That's what a good man would do. 

He's not a good man.


End file.
